


The Incorruptible

by cassandra_leeds (The_Circadian)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Circadian/pseuds/cassandra_leeds
Summary: The grace Castiel has been spare-tiring finally starts to sputter out like a low flame.Set somewhere in Season 9 initially, and then many years in the future. Canon divergent. No dark!Dean.Originally posted on Tumblr years ago. Archiving it here now, years later, because it could be a Series Finale canon divergent fix-it if you prefer. I do.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Incorruptible

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Elicia for a impromptu Birthday exchange based on their gifted art (image posted below fic with image description as well as the link to their professional website).

Sometimes, in the beginning, when Dean turns over and Cas is gone, 4AM leaving the room a wash of muted gray-blues and black, he thinks something is missing in what he sees. It’s not just that Cas isn’t there and physically warm beside him, it’s something in the energy of the whole space feeling cooler. A lost aura or something… It’s all a little too new-agey for Dean even half awake, but it sits in his brain and waits for him to push it away again all the same.

Castiel comes back to the bunker a week later with no explanation as to where he’s been and that’s fine really. The nagging insecurity is a familiar feeling to Dean. He’s not sure why he feels it though. What is there to be insecure about when it’s not love for either of them? It’s an exchange of bodily desires, hopefully respect, and a mutual world view that nothing lasts, so get your comfort where you can. Or at least that’s what Dean tells himself.

Dean makes Cas dinner, watches Castiel eat it mostly for show. And later Castiel follows him to his room.

Castiel praises Dean in the dark just as much as in the light of day which is to say uncomfortably more often than Dean is used to in its rather heartfelt, solemn honesty. But that night he doesn’t say anything until right after Dean breaks, right as he’s catching his breath in the euphoria, when he’s so close to Castiel in so many ways it feels like the scariest thing in the world because he can’t lie to himself in the midst of that. Cas breathes, “My good man,” fingers petting shakily through his hair. Dean’s eyes are closed tight, bright pink shining as real as pain behind his eyelids and he thinks he might be happy in this moment but it hurts like hell.

The grace Castiel has been spare-tiring finally starts to sputter out like a low flame. They find Cas leaning on the front door of the bunker, hand over his heart, muttering that he has hours left. He wants a place to die in peace - Dean knows that look - but Dean’s not gonna let him have it. Sam and Dean talk, they make calls, they figure out who owes them huge favors or who wouldn’t mind being owed. They get a lead and a source and Castiel sighs when they tell him their plan, his face pale. “Cas, we don’t have any other option,” Sam says softly. “And I sure as Hell ain’t letting you die,” Dean adds. “Not again. Not yet.”

The soul they end up with is an odd one though, unlike anything either of them have seen. Sam taps on the jar, face lit neon coral by its glow and asks, “Do you think it’s alright?” Dean nods, takes the jar, and says without thinking, “It’s his color.”

After, as Cas sleeps on Dean’s bed, Dean watches him and tries to focus on that color, tries to pinpoint why he said what he did, stares until he imagines he can see it underneath glowing through his complexion. The image of Cas hours before reaching to his chest and opening it to a dark void of terrifying space as easily as pulling a blanket down a bed keeps replaying in Dean’s head. The way the the soul felt in Dean’s hand, warm and healthy and slightly ticklish. The way lowering his fist into Cas, into that open chasm, was as surprisingly cold as a cave.

And Dean feels responsible for someone’s life in a way he never has before. He’s never felt like this before.

.

It’s 4AM on Christmas morning. It’s been many Christmas mornings since that night but this one they are in a place high up with windows and it’s raining. The lights on the small fake tree are the only light save the moonlight that casts the room in a blue tone, but the little multicolored LED lights shine in reflection on the windows. It’s all so familiar and simultaneously so new to be happy this way. Cas is still here in a way that Dean wouldn’t have expected years back, warm as they sort-of-dance-sort-of-sway cheek to cheek to the sound of the Christmas radio station and the rain on the windows. They’re still half-dressed in the fancy clothes they wore to Sam and his fiancé’s party, now in bare feet and half unbuttoned dress shirts.

It’s easy to kiss now. It’s easy to be vulnerable. More and more he forgets a time where he was afraid of letting himself think he loved someone enough to work toward this moment, toward this kind of overflowing feeling.

Cas’ eyes are closed, and Dean thinks he’s probably half asleep now. He smells like champagne and aftershave and he’s a different person than Dean fell for years ago. No longer shining like a star in the darkness of a room, Castiel still glows. He’s human, but Dean can still see that warm color in the elusive spirit of his laugh and, right now even, where he’s drifting in and out of sleep on his feet.

But maybe that’s just loving someone. Maybe they become something unearthly when you know and love every single part of them. He wonders if Cas sees him the same way. He wonders if he has that residual sense of someone so familiar you could know them in another life probably.

“Sun’ll be up soon.” Dean whispers into Castiel’s hair and Cas makes a sleepy sound into his shoulder.

The curiosity grows in Dean’s mind now. He figures it can’t hurt to ask. “Hey, Cas?” Cas makes the same muffled sound as before. “You know how your soul was a… like a red color?” Castiel breathes a sound of acknowledgement. “Are souls different colors a lot? Or was it like a fluke?”

Cas sort of shrugs. “’s not unheard of.” He yawns. “Yours is blue. Light blue with a… kind of a flare of gold on its edges.”

Dean straightens a bit. “Really?”

Castiel doesn’t say anything and for a minute Dean thinks he might’ve nodded off on him, but then he says, “They complement each other quite well, I think.”

Dean chuckles, “Well, that’s good.”

Dean turns the thought over in his mind for a bit, softly sings along to the end of “What Are You Doing New Years Eve” and Castiel murmurs, smiling, “I’ll be here of course.”

Dean laughs. “Good.”

_The Incorruptible_ by [Elicia Donze](https://eliciadonze.com/)

[ID: a digital painting of Castiel played by actor Misha Collins circa 2014. Castiel is pictured in semi close up portrait from the upper chest up. He faces the viewer but his head is turned slightly to his left, eyes shining and gaze aimed slightly up and to his right, past the viewer toward what is the main light source. He is wearing a tan trenchcoat, and a white button up collar is visible beneath, the first button unbuttoned. An opaque, flat, hot pink to coral colored circle of light halos Castiel's head from what seems very close behind, neon bright. It's color illuminates the shoulders and collar of Castiel's clothes and even shines out to the navy blue of the background. End ID.]


End file.
